


wrap you up

by Anonymous



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Seoho's too-short shorts from that one vlive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Hyung, do you have any idea what a tease you are?"or,Seoho's shorts keep riding up. Keonhee thinks the best solution to it is to just take them off completely.
Relationships: Lee Keonhee/Lee Seoho
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63
Collections: Anonymous





	wrap you up

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.
> 
> This references the Seohee vlive and [Seoho's tiny fucking shorts](https://www.vlive.tv/post/1-18381939)

“It shouldn’t be more than half an hour. Can you entertain yourselves while I’m gone?” the manager says, and Seoho makes an absentminded noise of affirmation, already unlocking his phone. He and Keonhee had just finished a vlive, and while it was fun and low-pressure, his T-shirt is still clinging to his back from the nervous sweat. He only briefly considers a nap, but there’s tension still clinging to his limbs that would be better exorcised by some mindless scrolling through his social media.

In his peripheral, he’s barely aware of Keonhee heading towards the door. He assumes he’s going to the bathroom, or to the vending machine down the hall, where they’ve got the snacks he likes.

The lock clicks into place with an echoing sound, and Seoho’s attention snaps away from his phone. Keonhee’s posture looks casual as he turns around, but the expression on his face is unreadable.

“Are you going to lock him out?” Seoho says, trying for a smile, hoping not to show how confused he feels. Keonhee is just standing at the door, looking at him, head tilted at an angle as his eyes sweep up and down Seoho’s form on the couch. He ignores his question entirely.

“Hyung,” he says instead, and there’s a roughness in his voice that has Seoho snapping to attention, “your shorts are really short.”

Seoho follows his gaze down and feels his cheeks warm slightly. His shorts have ridden up to his mid-thigh, exposing a few sparse hairs he must have missed while shaving and the small circular scar he got while chasing his friend at recess. Under Keonhee’s gaze, the shorts suddenly seem like a bad idea, and he grimaces at his knobby knees, reaching out to tug down the material, trying to cover up.

“Should have worn long pants -” he mutters to himself, only for Keonhee to cut him off.

“Do you have any idea what a fucking tease you are?” Keonhee says and Seoho’s head whips up to look at him, wide-eyed. “Showing yourself off like that for the whole world to see?”

“I…” Seoho starts and trails off. Looking at him now, Keonhee’s previously unreadable expression doesn’t seem like much of a mystery. There’s a slight flush high on his cheeks and his eyes have gone entirely dark. Seoho knows that look. Granted, he’s usually seeing it in the privacy of their dorms, behind locked doors while everyone is out but he’s seen it enough that it’s got heat pooling in his stomach immediately.

Keonhee moves from his position at the door, and his usual slightly awkward gait is replaced by something more sinuous, closer to the Keonhee that only emerges on stage. Seoho feels pinned in place against the couch, heart suddenly racing, sweaty skin sticking uncomfortably to the faux leather of the seats.

Seoho sucks in a breath as Keonhee drops on his knees in front of him. He looks good like that, hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, the look he’s giving Seoho both intense and hopeful as he puts his hand on Seoho’s knee.

“We can’t,” Seoho says, trying to regulate his breathing. Keonhee’s thumb brushes the soft skin of his inner thigh, and he shivers. “He’s coming back soon.”

“I locked the door,” Keonhee says, and his smile looks both smug and mischievous, “and I don’t need half an hour to get you off.”

“Hey, I’m not that easy,” Seoho protests and Keonhee laughs, looking at him from under his eyelashes. 

“Aren’t you? You’re already hard,” and he’s right, Seoho is, and he’s getting harder just from the way Keonhee plays with the cuff of his shorts, absentmindedly licking his bottom lip. 

Seoho bites down on his bottom lip, tries to ignore the way Keonhee’s eyes follow the motion, tries to think through the fog threading through his thoughts. Keonhee leans forward and captures his gaze, and in the neon lights of the company office he looks halfway to wrecked already, eyes dark and mouth bitten red.

“Please, hyung,” he says, “let me suck you off. I want to.”

Seoho bites down on a groan, thumping his head back into the sofa cushion. “Yeah, okay,” he says, embarrassed at how breathy he sounds, at how easily he gave in.

Keonhee’s hand slips under the cuff of his shorts, trails over his inner thigh, and comes to press on his crotch through his underwear. Seoho has to clench his jaw to keep quiet, especially when Keonhee follows it up by leaning forward to nuzzle against the front of his shorts, breathing in as he rubs his cheek against the soft fabric.

“Been thinking about this the whole time,” Keonhee whispers, looking slightly embarrassed, and Seoho realizes that he’s dangerously close to spilling something honest and mortifying, so he leans over and kisses it out of his mouth.

Keonhee’s mouth is soft against Seoho’s slightly chapped lips, and he opens up immediately, letting Seoho deepen the kiss, kissing slow and dirty like they’re not on the clock, like they have anything like time. Keonhee presses his hand down suddenly and Seoho has to muffle his gasp against his mouth. He feels Keonhee smirk and pinches his side in retaliation, making him yelp.

This somehow devolves into a half-wrestling match, where they both alternatively try to pinch each other, bite each other, and get Seoho’s shorts and briefs down, and by the end of it, Seoho is awfully, achingly hard. 

As soon as Seoho is bare, his underwear thrown somewhere, Keonhee goes to town. He licks his lips, grips Seoho’s cock by the base, and sinks all the way down, his throat opening up to accommodate him. 

Seoho usually prides himself on his stamina but something about the heat of Keonhee’s mouth, the tight slow drag, the way he pulls back to suckle softly on the head and tongue the slit, it’s got him grasping for purchase on the slick surface of the sofa, doing anything he can to keep from thrusting.

“Fuck,” the curse word escapes him like a prayer, “ _ your mouth _ .”

Keonhee pulls off, looking thoughtful and Seoho has to muffle a whimper at the sudden loss of the wet velvety heat. “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Keonhee says.

“What?” Seoho chokes out, his brain scrambling to catch up as Keonhee traces the vein on the underside of his cock with his tongue.

Keonhee catches his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You should fuck my mouth,” he says and Seoho thunks his head back against the couch hard enough to see stars because the mental image is almost enough to make him come on the spot.

“Fuck,” he repeats empathically and Keonhee laughs at him, the bastard, resting his cheek on his knee. “How do we do this?”

Keonhee looks thoughtful, his fingers playing with the head of Seoho’s cock, introducing the barest hint of his nails on the downstroke and making Seoho whine. “I think if you get up on your knees you should have enough leverage.”

It takes a few seconds for Seoho’s mind to comprehend that, and a further few to paint the mental image, after which he scrambles up onto the couch, cursing his suddenly uncooperative limbs. Keonhee just laughs at him. 

Finally, Seoho settles in a kneeling position on the low couch. It puts him at just the right height for Keonhee to reach without straining his back. He’s still smiling when Seoho reaches to cup his cheek, looking unreasonably fond for someone with a dick right in front of his face, and Seoho can’t help it, leaning over to press a kiss to his mouth. It’s nothing more than a peck but it’s got them both smiling as Seoho grips the base of his cock and guides it to Keonhee’s mouth.

His other hand immediately flies up to his mouth, stifling his moan before it can escape because Keonhee’s mouth feels amazing. He gives an experimental thrust, watching with awe as Keonhee moans around his cock, eyes open, dark and glassy and unfocused. He rests his hand on Keonhee’s hair, not sure if he’s allowed to pull, shy about doing anything other than carding his fingers through the stiff strands as he continues to move.

Seoho’s got a hand over his mouth but they’re still so loud in the quiet room, the sound of flesh on flesh, the springs of the couch that squeal in time with Seoho’s movements, the wet drip of saliva from the corner of Keonhee’s mouth, his stifled moans.

Seoho was never going to last. How could he, with Keonhee’s throat spasming around his cock, his eyelashes clumping with tears, the way he leans into Seoho’s hand on his cheek, soft and perfect and trusting.

“I’m gonna…” Seoho whispers and stills, goes to pull off, but Keonhee almost glares at him, brings one hand up to palm his butt, grips his hip to keep him where he is, in Keonhee’s mouth, the action forceful and assertive, and that, beyond anything else is what pushes Seoho over the edge. He comes in Keonhee’s mouth, watches his throat in mesmerized wonder as he swallows.

There’s a brief moment of respite, as Keonhee lets his softening length slip out of his mouth and Seoho tries to catch his breath, every bone in his body feeling like it’s gone liquid. And then he realizes that Keonhee’s got his hand in his pants and he sort of oozes onto the floor to help him. 

Facing each other feels like a weird position, with Keonhee on his knees for so long, so Seoho reaches out to push at his chest and topples him backward. Keonhee, who isn’t actually paying that much attention, doesn’t brace himself and his head hits the carpeted floor with a muffled thump that has Keonhee swearing and Seoho giggling, muttering apologies, as he works to get Keonhee’s sweatpants over his ass.

It doesn’t take a lot - Seoho puts his mouth around the head of his cock and sucks, stroking the rest with his hand, and Keonhee is coming with a shout that would definitely have someone running if it weren’t for the building being dark and quiet. Seoho swallows, grimacing around the bitterness because he refuses to leave cum on the carpet of their practice room for someone else to clean up. He’s polite like that.

He looks at Keonhee, who’s starting to sit up. His chin is all wet and Seoho reaches out instinctively, to dab at it with the sleeve of his shirt. He flushes at the way Keonhee looks at him, and avoids his eyes in favor of wiping the stray tears, muttering an apology.

“Don’t worry about it,” Keonhee says, and his voice sounds rough and it’s probably a good thing that they don’t have a schedule tomorrow morning. “I liked it.”

There’s a brief moment, where Keonhee’s face has been cleaned up, and Seoho is still just sitting there, cupping his cheek and Keonhee is watching him in turn, expression soft and too open and -

The doorknob rattles and the two of them leap to their feet as their manager starts to pound on the door. Seoho throws himself into searching for his wayward pants. He finds the shorts quickly but there’s no sight of his underwear.

“Yah,” he hisses in Keonhee’s direction, “where did you throw my underwear?”

“No idea, hyung,” Keonhee says, grinning at his predicament. He’s already fully dressed and waiting at the door. “Just forget it, we need to go.”

Seoho pulls on just his shorts, cursing for the umpteenth time how short they are as Keonhee unlocks the door, their manager spilling into the room, regarding them both with suspicion.

“Sorry, hyung,” Keonhee says innocently, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, like his mouth doesn’t probably still taste like Seoho’s cum. “We fell asleep and forgot we locked the door.”

“Why did you lock it in the first place?” the manager asks, though the suspicion is clearing from his face in the face of Keonhee’s earnestness.

“To keep away the ghosts, of course,” Keonhee says, like it’s obvious and their manager rolls his eyes and lets it go. They move to gather their stuff, and as Seoho is grabbing his Pepe bag, he catches Keonhee, calm as anything, stuffing something into his backpack. Something that looks suspiciously just like Seoho’s underwear.

“You fucking bastard,” he breathes, wondrous as Keonhee smiles at him innocently. “You had them all along?”

“No idea what you’re talking about, hyung,” Keonhee says, before his gaze drifts downwards. “Ah, you might want to adjust. Parts of you are...peeking.”

And then like nothing even happened, Keonhee turns on his heels and walks out of the room, whistling tunelessly, leaving Seoho behind, trying to tug down his shorts over his rapidly hardening cock. It’s going to be a long journey home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Anon because I'm still shy. You should still tell me what you think?


End file.
